


Late nights, Drug fights

by FueledByTea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 22:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18061445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FueledByTea/pseuds/FueledByTea
Summary: In which Monique catches her boyfriend, Tim, using heroin after he promised he was clean.Strong language.Trigger warning: mentions of suicide attempts and drug abuse.





	Late nights, Drug fights

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first hetalia fanwork, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Tim: Netherlands  
> Monique: Monaco  
> Yão: Portugal  
> Laura: Belgium  
> Theo: Luxembourg

Theo walked towards the door, half dragging Yão with him. "Good night everybody! I apologise in advance for any sounds you may hear," he said suggestively, winking at the room. 

"Go have your fun," sighed Tim, his hand on his forehead, as if he was trying to smooth away frown lines.

Theo looked surprised and glanced at Yão, who was casually leaning against the doorway.

He said in mock curiosity, "No threats? What has become of my brother?"

Tim chuckled softly. "Go before I actually kill your boyfriend," he said, moving his hand away from his forehead. 

Laughing loudly, he began going up the stairs. "Okay, bye, adiós, au revoir, auf wierdersehen, I'm going," he said, to prove he was going for real now.

" 'Night," he called after them before breathing out heavily. He realised that his brother had only told him about having a boyfriend earlier that day, had time really gone that slowly? It had felt like forever. The thought of losing his brother was like a leech at the back of his mind, always sucking away at his thoughts. Now that Theo had a boyfriend, and Yão of all people, the leech had become more noticeable, demanding a part in almost all his waking thoughts that day. 

"Get a grip," he told himself, "You can't expect him to stay innocent his whole life."

Oh, but one can hope. 

"Do you want to go to bed?" Monique's voice cut through his thoughts before he could sadden himself anymore. 

"Sure," he said, still some-what buried in his thoughts. 

He barely noticed that they were already in their room when he resurfaced and scarcely registered himself walking over to his suitcase and opening it. His arm fished around, trying to find what he was looking for. He breathed a sigh of relief when his fingertips brushed the familiar fabric of the special pouch. The pouch was cleverly hidden behind his back before he made his way to the door.

"Aren't you getting in bed?" Monique asked sleepily, already changed and under the covers. Her eyes were closed. 

He panicked slightly preliminary to collecting himself, she couldn't see him. "I'm just going to the bathroom schat, I'll be back in a minute."

She hummed faintly in response. Tim took this as his indication to leave. He hurried to the bathroom, shutting the door before leaning against the door, his eyes closed. Was he really going to do this after he told Monique he had stopped?

"Yes you are," the nasty little voice in the back of his mind spoke, "You're going to do it again and disappoint yourself, just like you always do." He was too tired to block out the voice like he usually did. The voice damped his mood even further. 

He winced as the needle pierced his skin, releasing it's poisonous contents into his blood stream. A groan escaped his lips as the familiar feeling of heroin over-took his body. 

Suddenly, he was leaning over the toilet bowl, retching out his stomach. 

A pair of strong, elegant hands were gently patting his back. It didn't take much for him to notice it was his girlfriend, Monique. He couldn't tell if he was grateful or terrified of the fact that she heard him, and not Theo, Laura, or Yão. 

"Mon Ange, are you—" She began, cutting off after she spotted the needle. 

Funny she called him Mon Ange, he felt like anything but an angel at this point.

"You've taken some sort of drug, haven't you?" She sighed, the displeasure in her tone stinging. He sat up, he was done vomiting, for now. 

"Bold of you to assume that I wouldn't take some sort of a drug," he said. 

Unsurprisingly, his attempt at humour did not impress her. Quite the opposite happened instead, a look of extreme disenchantment was cast on her face. 

"Tim, this isn't funny, you said you didn't take hard drugs anymore," she said, clearly upset, or annoyed, he couldn't really tell. 

"Well, joke's on you."

A wave of irritation over took Monique. "Can you take this seriously for God's sake?" 

She watched him rock his head back, staring at the ceiling as if it was something really interesting. 

"How long have you been taking it?" She asked.

"Uhhhh, I can't remember," he slurred. She pinched the bridge of her nose, Tim decided that she was definitely annoyed at this point. He also realised she wasn't wearing her glasses.

"Strange," he thought to himself, she almost always had them on. 

"For fuck's sake Tim," she said, the irritation now evident in her voice as she picked up his needle and pouch and placed them behind her, "You're not getting these back."

Her eyes started to hurt from the strain, when she heard him vomiting, she didn't think twice before rushing out without her glasses. 

"But it feels so good," he groaned. His eyesight was starting to get foggy. 

"You could've overdosed and died!" She exclaimed, aggravated.

"Also sounds good." 

She took a deep breath, whether to calm her anger or to stop herself from bursting into tears, she didn't know.

"Overdosing and dying does not sound good at all, you should know that," she said, her emotions unreadable.

"It sounds perfect to me," he said. Normally, he wouldn't be as blasé about something like this, but now his drugged conscious was showing no remorse.

"It's not perfect at all! The feeling of overdosing is painful and disgusting," she stated coldy, suppressing her want to cry as if her heart had broken.

Tim grew quiet, realising what she had meant. A month ago, she had attempted suicide in a fit of depression after her father's death. 

And he didn't notice a thing.

Her declining mental health, the cuts, the dull eyes, they all went undiscovered by him. He still blamed himself despite her many reassurances that he couldn't have noticed and that she was being secretive. 

The guilt weighed on him, as he became conscious of the fact that it was none other than him that caused her to remember the horrible ordeal. To remember the revolting experience of feeling like her blood ran cold in her veins. To remember the heavy feeling overcame her body and the contradictory lightness of her head. To remember the feeling of being close to nearly hurling your guts out , a feeling she also felt right now, brought on by being violently reminded of her near death experience.

"Exactly, now get up, you're going to bed," she said.

"No, what I'm going to do is take more heroin, I don't need sleep," he said, sitting upright.

"You do need sleep, you're not going to poison yourself anymore, plus, I have your needle," she retorted. She wanted nothing more to get into her warm bed and forget everything that happened that night.

"Give that ba—," he groaned, before he was back with his face over the toilet bowl, vomiting. 

"That's why you don't take drugs," she sighed, gently patting his back. Tim sat up, and she gave him a tissue to wipe his mouth.

"Totally worth it," he said. She raised an eyebrow.

"Possibly killing yourself is worth it?" She asked. Tim thought she was making a big fuss over nothing, he hadn't tried to end his own life, but her own near death experience had left her with intense paranoia.

"Yes, it sounds great," he responded. 

"Almost killing yourself and dying isn't great at all, death isn't funny Tim," she said, pushing stray hairs out of her face.

"Death sounds way better than life to me, give that damn needle here," he said, raising his voice a tone at the end. 

"I'm not giving you the fucking needle Tim! You need to understand that life is so, so much better than death and it's pissing me off that you're taking it so so lightly," she said, also raising her voice. If they weren't careful, this'd turn into a full blown argument and wake up the whole house.

"Taking what so lightly?"

"Taking life so lightly, taking it for granted," she said. 

"Nicely said for someone who swallowed a bottle of pills not so long ago!"

It was silent for a moment, Tim was thankful and resentful for that. An unreadable emotion flashed on Monique's face before it returned to it's former unreadable state. He remembered something at that moment, something he promised her after an argument they had not too long ago. He promised that he wouldn't hold her suicide attempt against her.

"It's just another broken promise, you break them all the time, pathetic," that nasty little voice said once again. Just like before, he didn't try and stop it. 

"Thank you for reminding me of that," she said sarcastically, "Jabs at me aside, I'm trying to say that being alive is better than death."

"Well my heroin is what's keeping me alive! Now give it back!" He yelled, no longer caring if he'd wake someone up.

"I'm not giving them back to you Tim! They're not keeping you alive! They'll just turn you into a zombie!" 

"Surprise, I already am a zombie," he deadpanned.

She sighed, "Do you take anything seriously?"

"I take drugs seriously."

"You need to rethink your priorities," she said, using her finger and thumb to rub her eyes.

"My only priority is my heroin."

"You don't even care, do you?" She was positively tired of speaking at this point.

"Mh, no."

"Well tough, I'm not giving them to you."

"Why not? I want them," he groaned. He was starting to get a migraine.

"Because you're going to end up killing yourself and someone needs to have brains in this relationship," she said, fed-up.

"They make me forget my pain, I need them."

"That's why you need to go to a therapist," she said. This wasn't the first time she had mentioned going to a therapist, and it definitely wasn't the last. Everytime she brought it up, he'd shut the idea down straight away.

"Sorry therapists but you've replaced by heroin," he said, declining the offer once again.

"I don't think so," she said as she snapped his needle. She opened her palm and let it roll out onto the floor.

Annoyance coursed through him, how dare she just go and break his needle like that? It wasn't cheap! 

"Hey!" He shouted.

"Whoops, looks like your needles broken," she said, gesturing to the broken metal on the floor. She watched him stand up with great difficulty and lean against the wall.

"Bitch," he said, his voice hoarse from vomiting. She was taken-aback by that but she shook it off.

"Tough," she said, walking out the bathroom. He rocked his head back, staring at the ceiling, feeling incredibly numb. It wasn't long before she was back.

"Are you coming to bed or not?" She had only left to hide his heroin bag, she knew he'd probably stay in the bathroom till the nasty chemical wore off. 

"Why should I?

"Because, you need to sleep," she said. She watched him blink slowly.

"I don't want to sleep."

"You need to sleep, come on," she said, adding a small amount of force behind her words.

He pushed himself off the wall painstakingly. "…fine."

Once she made sure he actually followed her, she turned around and left the bathroom. She re-entered their guest room at Tim's sister's, Laura, house. He sat on the bed, and stared at the wall. She raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you gonna lie down?"

He grunted as he layed down, his response to her question. She got into bed next to him, facing the other way.

"Bonne nuit," she said, 'good night' in French, her native language.

" 'Night," he replied. For two people who were in a relationship, they were both feeling pretty alone right now. Tim's mind was racing, thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. So was Monique's, but at a slower rate, as her mind was sober whereas his wasn't. She yawned as she felt sleep over-take her, for someone who was supposed to be mad at Tim right now, she contradictorily wanted to turn over, hug him, and never let go.


End file.
